


Daydreams Left Behind

by inkberrry



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Character Growth, F/M, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 08:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkberrry/pseuds/inkberrry
Summary: Prekk grew up in Lion's Arch, struggling to get by and learn who he was. His newest assignment to play babysitter to a pair of nobles nearly the same age as him signals the start of big changes in his life.





	Daydreams Left Behind

Midsummer in Lion’s Arch always reminded Prekk of his mother.

  
The stifling, heavy air hanging around the markets brought with it memories of his father tugging at his hand, pulling him along towards the cooler docks. Those were the days he thought about her. He imagined her alive and vibrant, with small hands gently holding his. Maybe she would have bought him one of those sweet, dripping treats sold out of ice boxes. Maybe she would have sat him down on the edge of the wooden platforms, their legs dangling into the warm, lapping water, and taught him about ley energy or synergy or the Eternal Alchemy.

  
Maybe they wouldn’t have been in Lion’s Arch at all.

  
What Prekk knew about Rata Sum he’d learned from eavesdropping on merchants and travelers. His vision of his mother fit perfectly there, and in his summer-heat fueled daydreams he was there, too. Not as he was — a little too gangly and small, spotted and a bit malnourished— but just like his mother. They were an ordinary family, and nothing was to be feared.

  
Now, pushing into his twenties as the years moved faster and faster, Prekk knew those day dreams had been the solace of a lonely, confused boy. He tried not to think of them much anymore, or how things may have been. His mother _hadn’_ t been there to indulge him with sweets or teach him about the secret, tightly held mysteries of the world. She hadn’t even been there to hear his first strangled cry as the healers removed him from her fast cooling body.

  
Sighing, Prekk tossed the stone he’d been sharpening his nails on into the water below. It fell fast and true, and when it hit the surface it disappeared with a splash. No, there was no use thinking about a life he didn’t have. Rata Sum was as far away as it had always been, and while he’d grown and eaten more regular meals, he was still the same somewhat small asura.

  
He pushed up from his spot on the dock, legs cramped from sitting too long. The view of the sunrise he came to watch was long gone, replaced by the fluttering cloth of many colored sails. Ships were making their morning return to Lion’s Arch, the lucky ones filled to the brim with fish and sea plants. The unlucky ones wore battle scars in the shape of cannonball holes along their hulls: a warning gift from lurking corsairs.

  
Despite the memories it brought Prekk came to the docks more mornings than not. In the summer it was one of the few slices of his day that offered relief from the sweltering heat and sticky humidity of the city. Further ashore waited cramped alleys and suffocating, mingling smells. That was where Prekk headed as he flitted through crowds of fishermen and shop owners — towards a plain oak door set bolted into the side of an old, beached galleon.

  
The ship, long ago, must have been something to admire. With its reinforced, slated hull, ornate center mast and etched name it might have fit in among the Krytan armada. Now, worn and dull with half its body missing, it was an everyday sight lining the streets of Lion Arch. Sometime after the great flooding the city rebuilt, using the many broken and landlocked ships as its foundation.

  
Prekk stopped at the door, his dark spotted skin already slick with sweat after his walk from the docks. He brushed distractedly at a drop above his lips, then squared his shoulders before entering the ship turned building.

  
Inside at least was a reprieve from the thick air, and the dim lights scattered about left cool patches throughout the room. A few worn and over stuffed chairs clustered around a small table in the north corner, rings of condensation staining its surface. Along one wall a mix of shelving held various items: mismatched armor pieces, rusted daggers, boots and lock pick sets and manacles. Through it all the smell of leather and stale whiskey lingered, with the occasional whiff of baking bread from further inside.

  
“You’re early.”

  
A middle aged human sat at a cluttered desk, her gray streaked hair hanging around her shoulders. She looked at Prekk, boredom betrayed in her eyes. It was a look she always wore, no matter the circumstance. Prekk long since learned the only way to win her over was with a splash of self-deprecation and a teeth filled smile.

  
“I have a record to keep up, Eloisa,” he said with another pass at the sweat dripping down his face.  

  
Eloisa snorted, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room.

  
“You have a boot to lick, you mean.” She jerked her thumb towards the archway behind her and the hall leading away. “Miciah wants to see you. He’s back in his office.”

  
Prekk nodded, though his neck felt stiff. It was never a good sign when the Boss wanted to see you. While he walked through the archway and down the long hall Prekk thought back to the last handful of days, searching them for any mistake he made or misstep he took. By the time he reached the office door, slightly ajar, he still came up empty.

  
Announcing he was there, Prekk pushed the door open and stepped inside. Miciah, a dark skinned human weathered by sun and surf, sat filling a chair behind a sturdy desk. He looked up when Prekk came in, then adjusted his gaze to find the asura a good two feet lower.

  
Miciah terrified Prekk the first few times they met. He was burly and large, his brawny muscles always on display thanks to the tight sleeved shirts he favored. A wiry beard covered his jaw and cheeks, and a large scar ran the length of his earlobe to his collar. Where he’d received it was a mystery to everyone who worked for him, and Prekk believed he kept it that way for intimidation.

  
“Prekk. You’re early.”

  
His voice filled the room, sounding like gravel pouring into holes of the busy city streets. Over the years it stopped having so much of an effect on Prekk, and he no longer shuddered under its weight.

  
“So I’ve heard,” Prekk replied, and supplied the same fake, toothy smile he gave Eloisa.

  
Miciah waved it away with his hand, and gestured to a single, uneven chair on Prekk’s side of the desk.

  
“Sit down.” Prekk complied, but his feet didn’t reach the floor and the chair rocked forward, unsteady on its legs. Again Miciah didn’t seem to notice, or if he did made no offer of another seat. Instead he went right on to the reason behind the meeting, making sure to meet Prekk’s eyes and hold them so he understood. 

        
“I’m taking you off the Silk Songbird’s rotation. Olive will take your place.”

  
“What?” Prekk leaned forward in his seat, tipping one back leg off the floor and dropping his stomach with the imbalance. The Silk Songbird was more home to Prekk than anywhere else; he worked bodyguard detail there for years. He was perfect for the job. “Olive isn’t going to—“

  
“Olive will be fine. More attentive than you.” Miciah shot Prekk a withering glare, his eyes narrow and cold. They were eyes confident they knew more than whomever it was they were fixed on. “Yeah, I know. Everyone knows. How many times have I warned you not to mix work and pleasure, Prekk? I thought asura were supposed to be geniuses, but you can’t even get this through your damn thick skull.”

  
A chill ran down Prekk’s spine, and his stomach lurched again, this time not caused by the unsteady chair. A vision of one of the Silk Songbird’s girls, her long brown hair tossed and splayed across feather pillows, invaded his mind. Rosemary was more than work. She was always more than just a client to watch over.

  
And now he was being torn away from her. Who else was going to make sure no one treated her too roughly, or didn’t  leave without proper payment? Olive? Prekk wanted to laugh. The charr had no finesse. She wouldn’t care about Rosemary like he did. The other girls, too, but they were farther from Prekk’s mind.

  
There was no arguing Miciah’s word though. He supplied the work; he told Prekk where to go, what to do. In return Prekk had enough money to survive and a reason to get out of his father’s house. Refusing this change in position wasn’t an option, and Prekk didn’t want to imagine what Miciah’s muscular arms would do to him if he tried.

  
“So what am I supposed to do now then?” he asked, and settled back into his seat. His feet hung useless above the floor, stiff to keep from swinging.

  
Miciah watched Prekk, as if searching for a hint of rebellion. When he didn’t see it he rest his arms on the desk and slowly turned his lips up in a skin crawling smirk.

  
“Babysitting,” he said after he must have felt the effect of his expression sunk in. “Some noble from outside Divinity’s Reach is in town with his kids. He wants a detail to watch over them, make sure they stay out of trouble, no one kidnaps them for ransom. Ask me, there’s no real concern there, but who am I to tell him that when he’s willing to pay, eh?”

  
“Babysitting?” Prekk blinked, his large, shining blue eyes dimming. The company did a lot of legal and _less than_ legal things, but babysitting had never been among them. “So, you want me to watch over some kids? Can’t he drop them off somewhere?”

  
“They’re…” Miciah shuffled through some parchment on the desk, found what he needed, then snorted. “Twenty-one. No real daycare for spoiled noble adults. Daddy thinks bodyguards fit the bill though, so you and Hradi will hold their hands and make sure they behave during their visit. Take them sight seeing for all I care. Just don’t let them get killed for thrown in prison.”

  
It was a punishment, Prekk realized. He screwed up his long running position and now Miciah was punishing him. Nobles were stuffy and entitled, and ones that needed babysitters at twenty-one promised to be insufferable. And Hradi was new here, which meant Miciah was expecting Prekk to watch over _him_ too.

  
The only bright spot was nobles left the city. They didn’t stay forever.

  
“And then what?” Prekk asked, the slump in his shoulders a little less pronounced.

  
“And then what, what?” Miciah’s low voice turned to a growl. For the first time in a while he terrified Prekk, just like the first time he towered over him and backhanded him across the room. “You’ve gotten spoiled with your post, haven’t you? Don’t forget who you work for, or what you are. Now get the fuck out of my office and don’t come back until tomorrow morning.”

  
Prekk scrambled off the chair, his feet hitting the floor with a thump unusual for his swift motions. He didn’t say another word to Miciah before exiting and shutting the door behind him, as if hoping the wood between them would block the animosity.

  
Back in the main room Eloisa was still sitting at her spot, though now her eyes shone with mirth. She must have known what Miciah planned for Prekk because when he walked by she chuckled.

  
“You look like a pup whose favorite bone got taken away,” she said. “Maybe you’ll learn your place now, little bunny.”

  
Prekk froze at the name and the tips of his long, oversized ears burned.

  
“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth, and he pushed through the main door out into the quickly rising heat of Lion’s Arch.

  
His feet moved without conscious thought guiding them. The path from Headquarters to the Silk Songbird was muscle memory, and despite the twists and turns and back alleys Prekk paid his surroundings no mind. The city had a habit of fading into the background anyway; growing up here, never leaving the limits, had desensitized Prekk to most of its charming and less than so qualities.

  
The Silk Songbird was another boat turned building. This one was in better repair, however, with curved and gilded lettering above the double doors. Behind it Prekk knew a courtyard opened up, and facing the street were a few balconies, long curtains hanging limp to hide the interior from prying eyes. A window was propped open on ground level and the light sound of a lute wafted out, drawing Prekk from his daze when he approached.

  
Shaking his head to clear it further, he opened the doors and slipped inside. Here too was different from the shabby and dim rooms of Miciah’s offices. Instead of worn and stained surfaces were plush and vibrant couches and pillows, each visibly cared for and maintained. Tables were set about, cleaned off now but often filled with light snacks and pitchers of wine and drink. Thick curtains kept the cool air inside and the noise from the street out.

  
There was no activity yet, but it was early. The Silk Songbird’s resident employees were likely sleeping off the rest of their night, whether alone or still on the clock. When the tide rolled in for the evening, though, the main room would be filled with voices and music, and the occasional escaping sigh from upstairs.

  
The lute music halted, and Prekk found its source lounging on a stack of plump floor cushions. A hyacinth colored sylvari idly twisted at the tuning pegs of the instrument, his round, luminous eyes trailing Prekk’s path from the door.  

  
“Good morning, Prekk,” he said, his voice music to match the lute. “Hot already, isn’t it?”

  
“Just another summer,” Prekk answered with a shrug. He took a few steps towards the stairs and motioned above. “Rosemary up yet?”

  
The sylvari plucked at his lute again, satisfied with the tune. Prekk never doubted his position as one of the more popular men at the Silk Songbird, but whenever he heard Elvian’s music he was reminded of exactly why.

  
“I think so,” Elvian said, now distracted enough to let Prekk out of his capturing gaze. “Go up and catch her before her bath.”

  
Prekk left the sound of the lute behind and tiptoed up the the stairs, careful to make no noise to disturb anyone still asleep. He stopped at the end of a long hallway, the door to Rosemary’s room ajar as usual when she wasn’t working.

  
He peeked his head inside, thinking to find her just waking. She was up, though, bare feet traveling delicately across the wooden floor. She placed clothes on her bed, holding up and examining them before laying them down for later. Every movement she made was easy and relaxed, and the small scrunch of her brow now and then did nothing to mar her features. From the curtained balcony stray beams of sun shone across her dark hair, illuminating it like deep, rich earth.

  
Prekk watched her for a moment, the breath in his lungs captive. He must have made a noise at some point, because Rosemary let out a soft gasp and turned, her eyes wide before she realized who it was.

  
“Oh! Damnit Prekk, you always scare me.” Her posture relaxed again and when she turned her head her hair tossed over her shoulder, sending a breeze that smelled of flowers across the room. “Well, come in. You’re letting the cool air out.”

  
Prekk did as she asked and walked towards an armchair empty of clothes. He passed close by her, the top of his head landing just below her breasts.

  
“You look beautiful today,” he said, like he did nearly every day. It was as if the words needed to come out, even if they were repetitive. “I mean, you always look beautiful. But today….”

  
“Today I slept more than four hours,” Rosemary laughed. She set a blouse down on the bed, then glanced sidelong at Prekk. “You’re early. Were you down by the docks?”

  
“Everyone keeps telling me that. Am I usually late or something?” Prekk wanted to lean back into the chair and get comfortable, to smile and ask Rosemary about her night. But the reminder of his morning brought with it the news he had to give her. “But, yeah. I was at the docks…Then the boss wanted to see me.”

  
Rosemary peeled off the top she was wearing, exposing an expanse of soft, dark skin. As many times as Prekk saw her like this, it always left his mouth dry and his heart skipping. She covered herself a breath later with a robe, though left it hanging untied around her shoulders.

  
“Oh?” she asked, and Prekk saw her wiggle her legs out of her under garments, tossing them aside with the top.

  
“He- I’m not going to be your guard anymore,” Prekk managed to get out, now averting his eyes and looking down at his palms. Saying it made it feel so real. He wouldn’t be here each night, patrolling the shadows in the hallways or leaning against the stair banisters, making sure everything ran without violent incident. “He’s reassigning me.”

  
Rosemary whipped around and took two steps towards him, her brow furrowed again.

  
“What? Why?”

  
_How many times have I warned you not to mix work and pleasure._ Miciah’s words rang through Prekk’s mind, stabbing into it and twisting. He couldn’t recall the moment he fell in love with Rosemary, but the first time he kissed her and felt her hands so gently pass over his body was forever embedded.

  
“There’s other work that came up,” he said finally, swallowing back a lump in his throat. “Olive — she’s a charr, she’s nice — she’ll take over. You’ll like her.”

  
Rosemary pouted, her lips dangerously kissable and close when she bent over to rub the tip of one of Prekk’s ears between her fingers.

  
_“I like you.”_

  
The lump in Prekk’s throat grew bigger, and he hesitantly reached out to feel Rosemary’s skin beneath the robe. It was only momentary, though, as she slipped away to finish readying for her bath.

  
“I like you too, Rosie….” Prekk trailed off, watching her back while she tied up her hair.

  
“You’ll be back after your new work, right? I’m so used to you here.” Rosemary’s laugh filled the room, and no hint of disappointment was left in it. “There’s no way a charr will sneak up behind me each night and pretend to frighten me.”

  
Prekk didn’t register her last words, his mind too busy trying to convince himself not to say what was on it. It and an idea he harbored for months, longer if he let himself be indulgent to his daydreams. Him and Rosemary — together, far away from Lion’s Arch and the Silken Songbird and Miciah’s whims.

  
He stood up and caught Rosemary’s wrist, holding it reverently.

  
“Let’s leave together,” he said, the words rushing out of him. “We can get out of Lion’s Arch. I have some gold saved up and we can travel light. No more hot summers or only getting four hours of sleep. I’ll guard you still, on the road. Just us.”

  
Prekk didn’t know what he was expecting from Rosemary, but the fall of her smile and the mist that covered her eyes were not it.

  
“Oh, bunny…” she said, her tone soft and somehow far away. “You know I can’t do that.”

  
Legs suddenly feeling weak, Prekk sat on the edge of the nearby bed.

  
“Why not?” he asked, and his own voice sounded wrong in his ears. It was too vulnerable, too open for more hurt and disappointment. “We’ve been — this has been going on for years now, Rosie. I love you. Don’t you — don’t you, too?”

  
Rosemary sighed and sat next to him, her hand cradling his cheek. Once upon a time the contact made him flinch. It look patience and care and so many kind words for him to accept a touch that wasn’t laced with malice or negligence. Rosemary made that happen for him. She alone showed him the touch of someone else could be a nice, wonderful thing.

  
“Not the same way you love me, Prekk.” When Prekk looked up into her eyes he saw the concern in them, but she was right: there was no reflection of his same feelings. He must have been blind to think it was there before. Blind or too hopeful by far.   

   
“This is my home. This is what I do. You’re very special to me, yes. But I won’t leave. You knew this, bunny. I know you did.”

  
The pet name stung almost as much as when Eloisa used it earlier. Too many echoes of it, said quietly in dawn light, pierced Prekk’s heart. He should have known. Rosemary was lovely and sweet and kind and beautiful. He was a paid bodyguard with nothing special to his name or his person. Her fondness may have been genuine, but it ran nowhere near as deep as his, and he should have known.

  
“Right. Right, of course.” Prekk stood again, brushing away Rosemary’s hand. He offered her a sharp tooth filled smile. “I understand. I get it. It’s okay.”

  
She rose with him, following as he headed to the door.

  
“You’ll still come by, won’t you?”

  
“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Prekk said, trying to keep the betraying hitch out of his voice. He very much wanted to be away from the Silk Songbird then, back on the docks or out in the choppy water where no one could see him. “But I have to go. To do the other thing. Olive will be here later and she. Well, she’ll be here.”

  
He reached the door and walked through, sparing one more look at Rosemary, her hair still caught in the filtered sunlight. So much for daydreams, as he’d always known. There was no use in thinking of things that never were, or never would be.

  
“Prekk, wait—"

  
Rosemary’s call was lost to Prekk, and in no time at all he was back outside suffocating in the heavy, enveloping midsummer air of the city that felt so much to him like a prison.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a story about my asura thief character. Visit me on tumblr at resonatingfern if you've enjoyed!


End file.
